|James Rich, Sentinels, acrylic on board|
(edited to add: it was pointed out to me that this is my second Boston dream; I had one a week or so ago where Jim and I are in Boston, looking at the harbor, gently mocking the accent: "Boss-tan Haaar-ba" while looking at the beautiful, soft water, reflecting pale pink lights. No idea why Boston has been popping up. I've never been there, don't plan on going there, no family is from there...)
I hadn't been thinking particularly of UFOs, aliens, my own experience, or listening to C2C late at night while drifting off to sleep, nor reading a UFO related book; all things I do on a regular basis. If anything, the past day or two, while working like mad on the house, inside and out, and enjoying our walks, I've been mindful of the importance of stepping outside of all the UFO-paranormal-esoteric-Fortean realm that swirls around me. I realize you can never escape it, and that's not the idea anyway. It's not a dichotomy, no contest here about anything adversarial. Just a balanced perspective so one doesn't get sucked down into an unhealthy and murky place.
And I still managed to have the following dream last night, despite my intentions:
I'm very excited because I've been invited to Boston to meet/collaborate with a well known UFO researcher. (won't say who, he's big time in waking life, though he doesn't live in Boston.) As dreams are wont to do, "Boston" (which I've never been to) is just a town or two away from me here in Eugene, Oregon. At the same time, it's also very far and a huge city and I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed but also excited. I go to where the researcher -- Joe X,lets call him -- works, which is a sort of university type setting, sort of huge apartment complex, sort of grade school. In fact, I see some of my co-workers and a few students from my waking life day job. Seems the school where I work has moved and they're already setting up offices for September.
I have to sort of chase down Joe X, lol, he's so busy and it's hard to catch up with him. People are stopping him every few moments to talk with him, he's very popular and everyone wants to have some time with him. He reminds me of one my waking life professors and in the dream, the two people kind of morph back and forth. Joe X sees me and waves me over to catch up. As we walk (rapidly, lots of people, lots of hubbub) to a conference room he tells me "Lots of researchers have plenty of stories to tell about the witnesses they've worked with, the data they've collected, but I want to hear from the researchers themselves about their own experiences. There's not enough of that going on. So Regan, I want to hear about your whole thing: the orb, missing time, the aliens..."
I tell him that's a good point and I'm interested in that as well, but as for my own story, I've told it plenty of times, no one wants to hear it again. I've put it out there already. Joe X tells me that not everyone's heard it, there's always a new audience and venue, and he bets he can get to deeper levels about my experiences.
We go into the conference room -- comfortable but funky, old, like an old university setting would be -- still lots of people just coming and going all around. Joe X starts asking me my UFO experiences, and then, the aliens. And I start to get very frustrated as well as a bit panicked. I don't like this and I'm frustrated because I can't remember seeing any damn aliens. I've sensed them, had communications with them, felt their presence (verified by others) but not seen them. Why, why, I ask Joe X, can so many witnesses remember these things but I can't? He is very kind and supportive and steady, just keeps at it. Then abruptly, I "see" in my memory, little bits of what "they" look like. Just an image of a hand, or a foot, or a glimpse of some part of them. I'm surprised because, for one thing, they're tall, not the short grays that's typical. They're somewhat gray like in appearance, meaning those spindly buggers, but tall, six feet or so. They're a sort of tan, dark beige or sand color, not white or gray. I still can't see all of them, completely, but it's the closet I've come to actually seeing aliens in my dreams.
I say to Joe X that in my other dreams, I can never remember what they look like. And even now, I tell him, in this dream they're still being elusive. "Even in my dreams, I can't remember!" I tell him in exasperation.
Later, walking around this place, I run into one of the teachers I work with. She asks me about my summer and if I did anything fun, I tell her I went to Boston. She says, well, that's huge, tell me more! I say, well, it wasn't really anything, it was just a day and a night, then I was gone. As I walk away, I realize that I just told a co-worker I had been to Boston, but I didn't go to Boston, I just dreamed that I did. I just told her I thought my dream was reality. Now I have to think of something to tell her if she asks about it again. I'm very worried about how it looks, that I think a dream was reality. Then I wake up, and for a few moments, still have that thought, worried about telling her I didn't really go to Boston, just dreamed it. Until I realize, that was a dream too -- I only dreamed that it was reality.